Thursday came.

I broke another promise. I had broken it a while ago, but finally it came to haunt me.

My girlfriend told me a couple things about how she felt to our friends. She didn’t make me promise not to tell, but I get the impression it was kind of obvious.

I had told Hilary, and again, word got out.

Strangely enough, Rebecca wasn’t mad at me. I told her why she should be mad at me, and we started arguing. Actually, we didn’t just argue. We fought.

We fought for hours. The very last thing she said to me. “im not here to tell you what you are or what you’re not. Its not for me to decide. I’ll let someone else knock that into you.”

I got the feeling.

“The feeling” I keep referencing so often is the desire to die. The feeling in the pit of your stomach that you don’t deserve to live. The feeling in the pit of your stomach thatsays “its not worth it anymore. Kill yourself”. Over thecourse of the two weeks, I got the feeling four times.The first three hurt for a second.
The last made me take action.